


Take A Hint (I'm In Love With You)

by concon_man



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Apocalypse, Smut, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), anyway, can't say i'm the same man after this, don't cha came on halfway through the sex scene, i actually hate this, i wrote this while listening to early 2000's music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:05:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concon_man/pseuds/concon_man
Summary: Aziraphale wasn't dense.





	Take A Hint (I'm In Love With You)

Aziraphale wasn't dense.

He wasn't blind.

So of course, after the apocalypse was avoided, when Crowley finally decided to come clean about his attraction to the angel, the latter was, all things considered, not particularly gobsmacked.

"We're not friends, Aziraphale," he'd said.

Aziraphale simply cocked his head to the side questioningly and raised an eyebrow.

Crowley cleared his throat and stood up from the old-fashioned cushioned chair. His face was flushed, his glasses thrown carelessly to the side. He was beaming; a true, wide, teeth-and-all, smile. The kind you'd only see in a demon after a smashing, fruitful, _sinful_ , day. The kind an angel could never replicate.

Not that Aziraphale had tried.

Crowley was stumbling, one of many wine bottles in his hands; he was holding it like a first-time parent would a baby. The neck of the bottle was facing downward, spilling sweet, dark red drops onto Crowley's once pristine skin-tight jeans. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, nearly tripping over the crumpled rug onto Aziraphale's lap. They were too close, the demon noted. He took several steps back, missing his chair for but a centimetre and falling promptly on his ass, the wine bottle rolling away from him. He reached for it, unsuccessfully. Across from him, an angel giggled.

Crowley closed his eyes for a second. He lay on the ground and attempted to sort his thoughts out. Next thing he knew, he was being lifted up by two surprisingly strong arms. His eyes fluttered open gradually.

"I believe it's about time you sobered up, my dear, don't you think?" the angel frowned patiently, having already taken his own advice. Crowley moved his head from side to side, holding onto Aziraphale's coat when the action made the floor blurry and unstable beneath his feet.

"No- can't. Haven't told you yet..." the demon croaked out.

Aziraphale took hold of his shoulders, holding him at arms' length, "Certainly it can wait, no?" he questioned, a certain feeling of impatience and disappointment leaving his lips in the form of a sigh. As much as he wished the demon would simply come out and say it - be done with it -, the angel knew not to rush him. Crowley would take his time and Aziraphale would wait another eternity if necessary.

Something about Crowley's confession being declared in the inebriated state he was in made the angel's eyebrows lower in disapproval.

Crowley was not an easy person - _demon_ \- to deal with. Aziraphale wouldn't put it past him to 'forget' about his own words in lieu of sticking with them.

It was fine. It’d happen before, and it’d happen again, Aziraphale told himself.

So what if Aziraphale had to sit through another set of thousand years until the silly snake decided to say the words the angel had been dying to hear? 'I have been hopelessly in love with you for aeons, angel, please oh please never let me out of your sight again' - sounded foolish even in Aziraphale's wildest reveries.

Nevertheless, he could dream. In the meantime, he had another issue at hand - quite literally.

And Crowley was looking at him, doe-eyed, a red hue creeping up his neck, lips set in a pout, the only thing stopping the demon from slumping against him being the arms that held him up. Aziraphale felt his cheeks redden just a tiny bit and his breath go shallow for a second at the tortuous sight.

 _Pull yourself together_ , Aziraphale reprimanded, _you're an angel for Chrissake_.

Swallowing audibly, he tried to place his voice just right, and it came out sounding...not as sweet as intended. "Let me accompany you to my bed, then. You ought to rest since you clearly are not capable of wording yourself properly."

Crowley, like a defiant child, groaned out a _No_ before promptly launching forward and draping his entire body on the angel.

Aziraphale took hold of him as well as he could and, with a bit of miraculous help, took him to his apartment above the bookshop.

It wasn't much of an apartment as much as a...storage room for all the books that were either too important to be stored in the bookshop (first editions, autographed, rough-drafts...), or simply wouldn't fit there anymore. He did, however, have a bed, a kitchen, and a bathroom. If you could call it so, given he used none of the above. The bed stayed there mostly for events such as this; that and Aziraphale knew Crowley had grown fond of sleep and would most certainly be grumpy without a nice nap at least once a week. The kitchen had been used, once or twice. Both of which almost caused the entire building to burn down. The bathroom came with the apartment which, in turn, came with the bookshop. Since the angel had no real need for it, he'd never gone in. The last time he tried to (he was trying to find space to fit a brand-new collection of books that had just arrived) the door wouldn't open; it was stuck, the hinges beyond rusted. He had to miracle it open.

Aziraphale carefully set the inebriated demon on his bed, the beige sheets contrasting nicely under a black, tight-fit leather jacket, fire-coloured hair and tan skin. Like he belonged there.

Prying his eyes away, Aziraphale proceeded to remove Crowley's shoes as the demon himself snored away lightly. He could just snap his fingers and have Crowley in his pants and under the bedsheets in the blink of an eye. He'd done one too many redundant miracles today though, he told himself.

Shoes off, he climbed over the demon to try and move him just so in an attempt to take his jacket off. He was careful, cautious in his movements. One wrong move and the demon would awaken and get the wrong impression. He slid the jacket off him, breath catching in tune with the jacket itself. When it finally came off, revealing tan arms - the demon's eyes remaining closed-, the angel let out a relieved sigh and his heartbeat slowed to its usual steady rhythm.

Doing his best to hold him up, he started to peel the v-neck from his torso. As the smooth skin of the demon’s stomach came into view, dusky nipples a gut-wrenching, downright sinful temptation, Aziraphale dared not to look away.

The shirt came off as easily as the leather jacket (which is saying, not very). Both were now crumpled in a pile on the floor, and the angel momentarily thought about how the demon would most definitely take it as a personal offence were he conscious.

Aziraphale had a half-naked, sleeping demon spread out like a starfish on his bed. Aziraphale was on top of said demon, knees brushing his inner thighs. Holding himself up, hands clutching the sheets on either side of his naked torso. Aziraphale was mesmerised by the slow, steady move of Crowley's chest as his lungs expanded and contracted to the tune of his soft breathing. He looked so peaceful at that moment, that to call him a demon would be to say the earth is flat.

Blimey, Aziraphale was moonstruck, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Just as he started unbuttoning the ridiculously tight jeans, exposing the dark red underpants beneath, a tan hand held his own tightly.

"Now now, angel, this doesn't seem very _holy_ of you."

Aziraphale froze and could've sworn his heart skipped a beat or two. His breath stuttered as he gazed up at the demon's face in a quick - _too_ quick - motion.

Imagine Crowley's thoughts when, to his astonishment, a red-faced angel unbuttoning his jeans is the first thing he sees the second he wakes up.

He woke up feeling nauseous, and he couldn't have that right now, now could he? So, clenching his jaw, he wished away the alcohol in his system and looked at the angel intently, waiting for an answer. The bad aftertaste pulled a disapproving sound from his lips.

Aziraphale resembled very much a deer caught in headlights, lips parted, blue eyes blown wide, hair a proper mess. Crowley grinned predatorily.

"I was- It's not-"

"-Not what it looks like?" the demon finished, sitting up so fast Aziraphale thought he was going to headbutt him into a coma - or kiss him, one of the two. He did neither. Instead, he pouted exaggeratedly. "You're no fun, 'Zira," he muttered. The way his eyes roamed the angel’s face was not overlooked by the latter.

Aziraphale laughed nervously and looked away, scooting back until he landed his feet on the ground. He fixed his bowtie, looking anywhere but to the bed. "You were going to say something before you so rudely succumbed to unconsciousness."

Crowley frowned momentarily at the tone of voice the angel used. Shaking it off, he climbed out of bed with the same fluidity you'd expect from a snake and, towering over his angel - barely a hand apart-, whispered: "I was, wasn't I?"

The angel swallowed visibly; the demon stared.

Aziraphale nodded absentmindedly and gathered the courage to look him in the face, look into the demon's slitted eyes (his dilated pupils, usually hidden behind dark-shaded glasses, were a sight for sore eyes), taking his sweet time, lingering on his lips.

The heavy air around them drew them closer together.

Stuttering but determined, the angel straightened his back, glad to have come to a conclusion about what he'd do next. "Crowley, dear, may I-"

For a demon, Crowley has a ridiculously large supply of patience, but all things must come to an end and so, when Aziraphale started rambling, Crowley couldn't help but lean down and brush their lips together, effectively shutting him up. He mustn't have gotten all the alcohol out of his system given how easily he submitted to the soft body in front of him.

Aziraphale gasped when their lips touched, and felt a pair of hands rest on either side of his cheeks, grounding him, pulling him in. He kissed back enthusiastically, tracing the demon's lips with his tongue. Crowley parted his lips, half giggling, half eager to get them both back onto the bed. Aziraphale kept kissing him lovingly, and Crowley knew that he'd have to take matters into his own hands. His hands travelled down his neck and grabbed his coats' lapels, pulling him impossibly closer. Slowly and as to not overwhelm the angel, he spun them around and shifted him to the bed, ever so carefully.

Aziraphale's skin was burning. His brain had momentarily short-circuited, not forming a single coherent thought for a solid minute of snogging. Afterwards, all he could think about was how good Crowley felt against him, how he'd wanted this for so long, how he was so downright _desperate_ , how pliant Crowley was. Then Crowley pushed him onto the bed and his mind went to the momentousness of his next actions. They were both very aware of themselves (although Aziraphale felt dizzy with desire) and knew this would open up a whole new door for them. Crowley started taking off his jeans and the angel suddenly found himself incapable of thought. He sat up in order to help the demon out of those _devilishly_ tight garments but was met with a firm hand on his chest, pushing him to lay back. He held himself up with his elbows as support and, as instructed by Crowley, 'sat back and enjoyed the show'.

Crowley was very aware of the pair of eyes fixated on him, and knowing he was with someone he'd loved for so long gave him a surge of confidence. He raised his chin, winking at the angel who promptly looked down, to where the demon was just starting to remove his jeans. His zipper was cooperative, for once. Finally, he pushed his jeans down his long, shapely legs, all while conspicuously staring at Aziraphale's expression. With a little wiggle of his hips (and a whole lot of demon miracle energy), the jeans successfully slid all the way down, dropping by his ankles. "Like what you see?" he asked, cracking his neck and licking his lips. Temptation personified.

Aziraphale let out a huff of air at the question, partially because he was absolutely speechless and partially from how enamoured he was of the demon in front of him. When a knee rested just below the angel's crotch and two hands came down and took hold of his coat, propelling him forward, the angel could do nothing but let himself be kissed breathless. Together, they engaged in the long task of peeling the layers of clothing from the angel. Crowley accidentally tore a button off Aziraphale's waistcoat and prayed to Somebody that the poor angel wouldn't notice it. He had no such luck.

"Crowley! Have you any _idea_ how much-"

With a groan (and a dramatic little eye roll), Crowley dropped to his knees on the floor between the angel's legs and hooked a finger behind Aziraphale’s bowtie, pulling him down to his height. He snogged the hell out of his angel, desperate and nearly salivating at the sight of him when he pulled away. "Better?"

Crowley was _not_ doing a good job undressing Aziraphale, but he didn't want to miracle his clothes away, he wanted to enjoy the moment, wanted to enjoy the angel, but damn was he getting inpatient. Fumbling with fabric and buttons, he huffed out of frustration. Aziraphale smiled, mirth in his eyes, and pulled the demon's hands away. "Take your time, darling," he whispered, taking his coat and waistcoat off in one go. Crowley untied the bowtie with one dexterous hand and popped off each button from the angel’s shirt – clumsily, but Crowley couldn’t stand another minute of the angel’s teasing. When the bowtie came off, the demon’s lips touched Aziraphale’s neck, expertly moving against soft, pale skin, sucking, nibbling, prying airy moans from the angel’s throat.

Crowley roamed his hands across the angel's now exposed chest for a solid minute, just appreciating what he had at this moment, and how nothing else could compare to this. Sitting back, he took off the angel's shoes and socks as Aziraphale popped the single button on his trousers. Crowley stood and leaned into him, pushing him back and taking control. Soon, his trousers were tossed aside and the demon was sitting on Aziraphale's lap, a soft hand gripping his ginger hair, ethereal tongue working _magic_ on his neck and collarbone. The notion that Aziraphale knew what he was doing was laughable, but the same could be said about Crowley. While both had been with humans (as was the cause of Crowley's century-long 'nap', not that Aziraphale is or will ever be aware of that, as far as he's concerned. That’s a story for another time.), being with each other was a whole other ordeal, a limit that neither had dared to cross - until now. There was a sort of standard both wanted to reach, wanted to impress the other, to be better than any human they'd ever been with, to show how much better they were off _together_.

Crowley was grinding his hips down viciously, and the sweet sounds Aziraphale kept making right next to his ear were only spurring him on. On a particularly hard thrust down, Aziraphale gave a prolonged, low moan, and his hands looked for purchase on Crowley's waist. Crowley was biting his lip so as to not make too much noise, and failing miserably.

The more Crowley moved, the further down the angel's hands dropped, until finally, _finally_ , large hands cupped the demon's ass. " _Please_ ," the angel begged, sliding his hands slightly under Crowley's tight underwear. Crowley hissed as a response, having little control over his tongue at moments like these.

Aziraphale was doing his best to take off the offending garment but to no avail. In a half-lucid state of mind, he wished it away, and it was gone before he could realise what he’d done. He'll most certainly hear from the higher-ups sometime this week for improper use of miracles. _Or not_ , Aziraphale thought, _not anymore_. For now, he relished in the feeling of soft skin under his, the feeling of Crowley pressing himself impossibly closer, the way he gasped and moaned when his cock sprung free, smearing precum on the angel's stomach. Aziraphale thought about how much he shouldn't be doing this, and how filthy and sinful the whole situation was, but then his own underwear was off, and nothing could compare to this.

Crowley couldn't seem to get his breathing under control. He kept hissing through his teeth, and it reminded him of just who he was doing this with, the only one capable of reducing him to such a mess. "Angel," he groaned out, "oh angel, please just fuck me already or I'll do it myself."

Aziraphale breathed harshly against Crowley’s neck and held him tighter, more forcefully. The demon had little time to prepare himself before slick fingers started to slide down the crevice of his ass and _inside him_ and his gasp was muffled by Aziraphale’s eager lips and tongue, teeth clashing.

Aziraphale pulled back to scrutinize the demon’s expression. A flush overtook him, seeing Crowley in the throes of passion - rocking back on his fingers, cock jumping and leaking precum, chest heaving, shoulder’s back, neck straining, head thrown back, jaw slack open, tongue lolling out, a single drop of saliva dangling from the muscle; Aziraphale could barely contain himself. Who’d have thought a demon could reduce an angel to such a state with so little effort.

The angel gulped and curled the two fingers inside Crowley, making him inhale harshly and rut against Aziraphale’s stomach. “Yes…” he’d hiss, nails forming deep half-moons on the angel’s shoulders. His hand drifted slowly downwards, stroking the soft skin in its path. Finally, it reached Aziraphale’s thus far neglected cock, handling it with a tight grip. There was a sharp inhale and neither could tell who was responsible for it.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whimpered, sliding in a third finger. Crowley sighed contentedly, stroking the angel’s cock in rhythm with the fingers being thrust inside him. The demon bounced impatiently not long after, begging the angel for more. Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s thighs quivering above his own, struggling to keep up the movements. Mercifully, he slowly pulled his fingers out, feeling the demon’s grip on his cock tighten and loosen, slow and quicken throughout the process.

Immediately, Crowley filled the space between them, holding the angel’s jaw in place with one hand and kissing bruises on Aziraphale’s lips. “Someone’s eager,” the angel commented, in between deep and forceful kisses.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

Aziraphale brought his hands to either of the demon’s nipples, flicking and rubbing the hard nubs. At this new development, Crowley broke the desperate flurry of kisses and bit his bottom lip until he drew blood. Pressing their erections together, the demon managed to draw out long and low and _embarrassing_ moans from Aziraphale, who would deny ever acting in a manner so unlike his usual composed self. Aziraphale’s hands stuttered and he could swear he caught a glimpse of the demon’s smug grin.

Crowley wanted to prolong their climaxes at any cost, having to tighten the pressure at the base of his shaft to keep from ending this too fast. “So,” he breathed, “how far do you want to take this, angel?”

Aziraphale took a second to answer, mesmerized by the filthy indiscretions the demon unashamedly partook in. “As far as you’d like, I suppose,” he replied truthfully, not wanting to push his luck. The answering demonic glint in Crowley’s eyes told him more than enough.

Taking a moment to calm his breathing (among other things), Crowley kissed Aziraphale one last time, slowly pressing against his plush lips, tongue slithering its way inside the angel’s pliant mouth, rubbing against the latter’s own tongue. He started to pull back when he felt Aziraphale hold his head in place, dropping wet kisses on the demon’s lips, chin, cheeks, anywhere he could reach. Crowley tried standing as still as possible, but soon gave in and plunged his tongue deep in the other's mouth, causing Aziraphale to moan out of surprise and arousal, hips lifting subconsciously after thousands of years of waiting for moments like these.

The movement made their erections rub against one another, and Crowley was reminded of the tension they’d yet to release. Gripping the angel’s miraculously slicked cock by the base and lifting his hips eagerly, he quickly pressed the blunt head to the tight ring of muscle that clenched and relaxed in anticipation.

The angel gritted his teeth, struggling not to bite the long line of the demon’s recently exposed neck. His hands came to rest on Crowley’s hips, and if the demon saw the finger-shaped bruises the next morning, he didn’t mention it.

Crowley stretched around the shaft that teasingly slid further inside, wiggling his hips with no real intention. He was a demon, after all, and he wanted to know whether or not he could tempt the angel into taking what he wanted. He felt the hands on his hips squeeze the supple skin, applying the slightest of force downward. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, the feeling of being watched never leaving him.

Every second that passed brought the angel further under Crowley's grasp. The demon's pupils were surrounded by a thin yellow circle from how dilated they were, and Aziraphale wished for a second that he'd kept them open. His sharp teeth were on display menacingly, and his red hair was half falling over his face. Leaning forward, the angel bit Crowley's neck in a spur of the moment decision, taking the demon by surprise. Crowley reacted by clenching around the angel's cock and chocking out a moan. Feeling lightheaded, Aziraphale pulled the demon down on his shaft, grinding upwards and sucking a hickey on the demon's throat.

Crowley cants his hips, catching a desperate but dragged out rhythm. He can feel the pressure building up in his gut, and he makes a displeased sound of frustration. The hands on his hips follow his movements and won't let him slow down, the grinding becoming erratic and fast. The demon is helpless to the quickening pace and finds himself too close to stop now. It's all new and exciting but oddly familiar nevertheless, like lovers reuniting after a long time apart.

When the angel licks the newly-formed bruise on the demon's neck, Crowley can't help but feel he's tainted his angel. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

"I'm-" the angel gasped, "Crowley, I'm-"

The demon's only answer was a breathy "Uh-huh" as he rolled his hips down and threw his head back. Feeling the angel's cock throb deep inside him, he wrapped his hand around his own shaft and stroked himself. With a few escalating moans, he was coming over his hand and the angel's chest, following Aziraphale's own climax.

The angel pulled Crowley down with an arm wrapped around him, tired and gasping for breath. Crowley snuggled in the angel's neck after lifting his hips and letting Aziraphale slide out of him. A hiss left his lips when the action made him rub his softening cock against the angel's stomach.

The demon curled around the soft, warm body beneath him, laying a hand over the angel's chest, observing the rise and fall of his ribcage. Aziraphale turned his head to him, kissing his forehead softly, "I love you, you wily snake." he muttered.

The demon blushed fiercely and looked down, "You're such a sap, y'know?" and proceeded to tighten his hold on the angel's entire body. _Mine_ , he thought repeatedly, and almost fell asleep when his angel spoke again.

"Didn't you want to tell me something earlier, Crowley?"

"Take a hint, angel dearest."


End file.
